


Love is a Choice

by TwoCatsTailoring



Series: The Lives Within [12]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, FFXV NSFW Week, cor/monica, make-up sex, two middle-aged people gettin it on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 04:17:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoCatsTailoring/pseuds/TwoCatsTailoring
Summary: You don't make it a dozen years with somebody by not being honest about how you feel or by denying when you made a mistake. Cor and Monica both know these things, which is why they are headed to thirteen.





	Love is a Choice

The worst thing about this was that it was literally his own fault. He had, honestly and genuinely, not been thinking when he decided to trot out of the gates at Old Lestallum to take on the admittedly small job of clearing out a nest of bombs that had cropped up on the opposite side of the river. He’d seen the bill for the hunt, thought that he could handle it just fine, and went. 

And he’d been mostly right. What he hadn’t counted on was that the getting there would prove almost as dangerous as the hunt itself. And that the trip back would be the exact same. The whole experience, while by no means impossible for him, had been eye-opening in terms of what no daylight meant to the world beyond the limited pools of light.

Cor had been ready to share that insight as he crossed the bridge back into Old Lestallum. The barrage of messages that flooded his phone once he was back in range were enough for him to realize that something was wrong without even stopping to read them. Cor had hurried back into town and to the makeshift headquarters they’d set up next door to the Crow’s Nest. 

“What’s happened,” he demanded when he entered the room, only to realize that every face snapped back to him and every eye was wide with confusion at his entrance. People rushed to explain - he’d left without word, hadn’t replied back in over 24 hours. They had all feared the worst. 

He was thunderstruck. Shocked nearly speechless by the concern for him and mortified by the worry and confusion he’d caused. And, as he apologized and explained, the concern melting off the features of the people who’d trusted him to be smarter than that, one face stood out as it morphed into stony anger.

And it was the one person that he wouldn't have hurt for the world.

As soon as he could, Cor broke away from the rest of the group, following where Monica had disappeared silently through the back room’s door. He found her outside, sitting on a tarp-covered crate, smoking. He reached for her but she moved out of his range. He apologized, she said nothing. Finally he tried humor, chiding her about picking back up the filthy habits of her youth and that was what finally set her off.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve to talk about bad habits,” she’d snapped back, not shouting because Monica never shouted at anyone. It was ineffective and unprofessional and drew unnecessary attention to herself. 

“So that’s what you’ve decided to regress to? Just disregarding all the fail safes we have in place, leaving without telling a single person, and not checking in at all?” She’d paused to take a long drag off her cigarette and flicking the ash off on the crumbling pavement.

“Monica, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…,” he’d started, knowing that she wasn’t going to stop until she was done. He wasn’t sure that he’d seen her that angry with him since they’d been teenagers, barely tolerating one another’s existence. She was vibrating, for Astral’s sake, the ropes on the shoulder of her uniform trembling with her rage.

“What?” she demanded hotly, “Didn’t realize that maybe, just maybe you might actually worry somebody now? Didn’t realize that, just walking out the gates, without so much as a ‘back later’, might cause mass panic?” Her jaw tightened as she sucked down the last quarter inch of her cigarette and flicked it hard into the sand at the edge of the parking lot. “Didn’t realize that on top of losing two Kings, the only home I’ve ever had, and at least 73 people I think of as family, the idea of losing you was just a little bit more than I could handle?”

She wasn’t going to cry. She wouldn't. Not here, not now. It could wait for another time and even if crying in front of Cor was something she’d done at least a hundred times, it wasn’t something she was going to do now.  Not when fear still had its claws deep into her skin and anger was knotting up her throat. 

When all he managed to do was stand there and gape at her for a few seconds, she’d hopped down off her crate, straightened her uniform coat and turned to him. “I’m glad you’re back. But I’m going to need to be mad at you for a while.”

Cor could understand and realized he deserved it. Because no, he hadn’t realized how stressed she’d been. And no, he hadn’t considered how upset she’d have been. He realized that he was so badly informed about those two things because this is exactly what he’d just spent the past three months doing - fucking off to Astrals-damned nowhere in search of the Royal Tombs and any other information he could find that might help Noctis and his retinue along their path. 

And now, things had changed. And he hadn’t caught up.

So he gave her time and he gave her space, but eventually sleep had to come for them both. He waited until he was sure she’d be asleep, getting cleaned up and tending to a few small injuries and writing up his report from the hunt, before inching into their shared room above the headquarters. He slipped into bed and wrapped one arm around her, pressing his forehead into the back of her neck.

“I haven’t forgiven you yet.” Monica’s voice was nothing but a whisper.

“I know, but I’m tired and have no desire to make you angrier by sleeping with Caspar or Eli tonight,” Cor replied as he lifted his head.

“Are you trying to be funny?”

“No, I’m trying to sleep.”

She huffed a sigh and lay still for another minute before shoving his arm back and turning over to face him, frowning in the slits of light that came through the blinds. 

“I thought you’d be asleep already,” he offered as explanation. “But if you want me to go, I will.”

“I can’t sort out what I want because none of what I want is possible to have, so it’s all feeling really pointless right now.”

He had missed a lot. It seemed like all the determination had evaporated from her, as if her grit and her fight were gone, her voice so flat as if nothing was really getting through anymore. If he was honest, it scared him a little. That wasn’t the woman he knew, wasn’t the woman he’d loved the past dozen years.

Cor put a hand to her face, his thumb tracing along her cheekbone before leaning in and kissing her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“I know. That’s why I’m telling you now instead of hitting you.” She tried to smile but it didn't quite work. Monica reached out a hand and balled it into the side of his shirt, the tightness in her chest easing some with the familiar contact. “I get why you haven't been around, but getting it doesn’t always help.”

Cor supposed that it didn’t help at all really.  Things were looking pretty bleak right now. Less and less daylight and no idea what to do about it, daemons spawning by the hundreds? It was probably a race against time just to keep the lights on. And no immediate promise of Noctis’s return made it easy to see how anyone could lose hope. 

Even Monica. 

Cor kissed her again, scooting closer to wrap an arm around her. “I’m here now,” he said, “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Because there’s not anywhere to go or because you’ve learned better now?” Her voice was muffled into his chest and he wasn’t sure if she was being serious or sarcastic.

“Yes.”

“Fair enough,” she shrugged, lifting her head to kiss the handiest patch of skin she could find. “I’m still not ready to forgive you though.”

Cor hummed, accepting that the fact that she wasn’t  _ ready  _ to forgive him meant that she would be eventually. “I can live with that. Can I stay here anyway?”

Monica didn’t manage to bite back a snort at that but did manage to make it not much of one. He was here now and while that didn't make up for him going AWOL on her, knowing that he was alive and well meant something. It also meant something that he was actually sorry for doing it, now that he’d realized how she’d felt. And that he wasn't telling her to get over his absences or trying to justify them.

Astrals knew she'd done enough of that herself the past three months.

“I guess,” she sighed against his throat. “You are pretty useful for keeping the bed warm.”

Cor chuckled and gave her small frame another squeeze, sighing with relief when she hugged him back. “I guess you won’t  be interested in any of my other uses, then?” he asked.

He just had to ask, didn't he? The glow of desire was already starting to spread through her before he was even done asking but Monica still feigned thoughtfulness. Forgiven or not, he was irresistible and knew it.

“It  _ has _ been a while,” she observed as her hand crept under the hem of his shirt. 

“It has,” he agreed, hooking the strap of her singlet in his fingers and pulling it aside as he kissed his way along her shoulder. “At least a week.”

“Closer to ten days,” she groused, tugging his shirt up. “I'm the only woman on Eos who has an IUD and a week-long period.”

“The former I am eternally grateful for,” he said as she tugged his shirt over his head, “The latter can fuck off.”

“Agreed,” Monica managed to get out before Cor’s handsy insistence on her top coming off silenced her long enough to wiggle it over her head and pitch it to the side with his. “Unless you're planning on changing your mind….”

He hadn't and she knew it. Which was why she was biting back a grin as he scowled. He'd tried, he really had. But there was nothing that could divorce the sight and smell of blood from the battlefield - and the horrors that came with it.

“Only if you’re planning on finally getting a blindfold.” Now it was her turn to scowl and Cor nodded once before returning to the absorbing task of kissing her collarbone, her neck, her chest.

Her skin tasted like everything that was right in the world, like home, like Monica. The feel of her on his lips, the softness of her skin over the hard knot of bone at the base of her sternum, it was all perfect, good.  _ Right _ . 

“I love you,” he said quietly, looking up into her eyes as his hands caressed her ribs.

“I love you, too.” Monica raked her nails through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp and smiling when he hummed contentedly. “Just like a cat,” she teased, then had to clap a hand over her mouth to muffle a yelp.

He'd found the spot by accident years before: a small knot of scar tissue between two of her ribs that didn't have much feeling to it. But just below it lay one of two places she was ticklish. And all cat references were rewarded with tickles. That was just how it worked. He didn't make the rules.

Her yelp turned into a sigh within seconds as he moved, alternating between kissing and nibbling his way over the swell of her breast to one nipple. He took his time, drinking in her scent as he licked then blew a stream of cool air over the taut skin before repeating the action on the other.

“Cor,” she could hear the shiver in her voice, asking for more as clearly as the rise of her hips against his. “Fuck, Cor.”

“In a minute,” he promised, his voice a little lower and his boxers a lot tighter. “It's been a while. Let me enjoy you.”

She squirmed, her laugh more like a long exhale as she protested, “You've been enjoying for ten minutes.”

“More like seven.”

“ _ Cor _ .”

He rolled his eyes as he rolled his tongue around her nipple one more time before kissing his way over her ribs and stomach. He hooked his fingers under the band of her shorts and started dragging them down, lavishing attention on her hipbones as he went.

“No, no this is fine. You can take as much time as you like,” she complained ineffectually, lifting her hips in the hopes that he would hurry up already. “We’ve got all night. I can wait.”

Cor stopped and sat back on his heels, her shorts forgotten about halfway down her thighs. He crossed his arms over his chest as he cocked his head to one side, pursing his lips to keep from grinning like an idiot, “First it’s all about how long it’s been, now it’s all ‘hurry up Cor, I’m not getting any younger here.’ Would you make up your mind?”

Monica groaned and shed her shorts and panties in one smooth motion that left her ankles crossed primly on his shoulder while the last of her clothes hit the floor with a light bump.

“I guess it could be both,” he conceded, running his hands down her legs then gripped her hips to swivel her to the side as he stepped off the bed. 

Monica hummed, dropping one knee to the side as he absently rolled his thumb over her clit while he rummaged through the side table drawer. He popped the cap on the bottle of lube and then surveyed the situation before giving her a hopeful nod. “Could you do the honors?”

She sat up, chuckling as she shucked him out of his boxers and kissed his jaw, “If anybody knew how bad you were at planning in this situation….”

“I would have been fired ages ago,” he admitted freely, gently elbowing her back down as he slipped a pair of lubed fingers into her. And with her chest arching up, eyes half closed, and that breathy moan, was it any wonder he was too distracted to plan much beyond making her do that again?

His fingers were nice, but his cock was better and when he removed the former in favor of the latter, Monica’s hands shot forward to dig deep into his sides. She was almost ashamed of the thought, but he was perfect. Felt perfect inside her, tasted perfect when he kissed her, smelled perfect - the scent of his want raw and heady and everywhere. That was such a stupid notion and had she been ten years younger she might have had the good grace to be embarrassed. But she wasn’t ten years younger and they’d past the point of embarrassment a long time ago. All that was left was enjoying one another.

Cor thought that maybe he liked this part the best, watching her smile stretch lazily across her face in the muted light from the spotlights outside while he braced himself on his hands over her. He couldn't see it but he kissed the slow spread of that touch of color that started at her ears and moved to her cheeks, neck, shoulders, and chest. 

“You’re doing it again,” she pointed out, moaning this time instead of complaining as she hooked a leg around his back and used it for leverage to thrust up.

“That mean you’re ready?” 

Cor didn't get an answer in words but he wasn’t really expecting one. Her nails raked across his scalp, tugging at his short-cropped hair. He planted another kiss on her mouth, tongues swirling together briefly before he pushed himself into standing again and crossed her ankles back on his shoulder. 

Monica’s breath caught at the change in position and pressure and she reached for him, their fingers twining together as he began to move. Slowly at first because he was both a horrible person and a wonderful one, then just a little faster. Her hand tightened in his, trying to convince him to speed up.

“Patience,” he breathed in response to her disgruntled whimper, his mouth pressing into her ankle as his beard grazed the skin. 

“But why?” 

“It builds character,” he replied, holding her legs tight against him as he pressed a little deeper, a little faster, into her. Cor could feel his release tightening in the pit of his stomach, knew if he kept this up it wouldn’t be long. And as much as she seemed to complain, Monica would be disappointed if they were done too soon.

There it was, that point that she waited for. The point where he was hitting just the right spot, at just the right speed that her toes curled and her head went back and she didn’t care who heard her because everything was just. So. Perfect.

“ _ Cor… _ ”

There it was, he knew that sound, his name falling out of her mouth like a prayer and her voice thick, her walls starting to tighten, her thighs straining against his hands. He could end this here, keep going, speed up just a little, finish them both then curl up and fall asleep in a sticky mess. As tempting as that was, he’d fucked up bad these past couple of days and he was determined to make up for it in actions as well as words.

“What’s wrong,” she panted, concern biting into the hazy edges of her vision as he stopped, letting go of her legs and pulling out, tugging her up by her hands. 

Cor caught the back of her neck in one hand, guiding her to her feet as he kissed her hard. “Turn around.”

Oh. Oh, well, how could she say no to that? Monica turned and crawled back up on to the bed, knees apart and Cor not a half second behind, the fingers of one hand pinching one of her nipples while the other dove between her legs, guiding him back in before making circles around her clit.

Cor groaned when she dipped her back, changing the angle and opening herself wider and deeper. He clamped his lips closed over her shoulder, her back, her neck, muffling his voice as she rocked back to meet him with every thrust. Sweat made their skin slick and one of her hands arched over, raking through his hair. 

All thoughts of lasting at all evaporated into nothing with the pressure of his fingers relentless on her clit and his cock dragging hard and fast between the deep-seated point that made her see stars and the one that he’d already worked to its tipping point. Nothing outside of wanting more, all of him, never stopping flooded her conscious thoughts. Her abdomen tightened hard, her back arched up, and her hand tightened in his hair as she came hard, shuddering and beginning to sink against the sheets.

Cor came, the coils of his control snapping as the precious sound of Monica’s last, long moan tapered off. He held on tight to her as her arm gave out and she started to collapse, dragging him down with her in the aftershocks. He clung to her for a while, both catching their breath until her fingers loosened in his hair. 

After a few minutes, she shifted and he rolled to one side, making a face at the trail of cum and lube that he left behind. “You’re going to need a shower.”

Monica shrugged, backing off the bed so as not to make a mess of the sheets any more than she had to. “My turn’s in the morning,” she said as she pulled a towel out of the closet and cleaned up as best she could before tossing it to him.

Her aim was good but the towel unfurled in mid-air and when Cor caught it, he took the damp, sticky spot straight to his chest. “Well, shit.”

Monica chuckled and bypassed their clothes to snuggle back down in bed as she teased, “Poor you! I suppose I could be talked into sharing my shower time with you.”

Cor rolled up the towel and tossed it in the direction of the dirty clothes pile behind the door. “Aren’t you generous?”

“It’ll cost you, of course,” she added, holding up the covers for him to crawl under. 

“I take it back,” he deadpanned, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. “What’s the price, then?”

“You do the laundry next time.” She let the covers drop, burrowing against his chest and lifting her head to kiss the first patch of skin that she came to.

Cor frowned and looked down at Monica’s upturned face, her eyes closed already. “What’s the catch?”

“You have to fold everything the  _ right  _ way.” In the unimpressed silence that followed, she laughed and kissed his chin again

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this from mobile so all the tags and everything are a disastrous mess. You shouk d still go give my reader love on Tumblr, sorshania, because she pulled out the pizza and beer after a shitty week to get this one read.


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